As The World Falls Down Again
by Lady Hiroko
Summary: After Sarah defeats the Goblin King, his powers are waning and the goblins are planning to revolt. In a last ditch attempt to regain his throne, he makes the ultimate gamble with a potential enemy. Can he regain his powers in time or be lost forever?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Like all fanfiction, the disclaimer applies. This will reflect not only the film but also the novelization "Return to the Labyrinth"; the latter far more loosely. Rated M so _almost_ anything goes. There will be violence and smut and it will be detailed. What is a story without details after all? Not sure what qualifies as M? I challenge thee to go to and see for yourself—however some of what you see may disturb you. I know it does me.

Mature: "Titles in this category may contain more blood and gore than the Teen rating would accommodate, sexual themes/content/references (which are censored, most case) and vulgar language. This content is strong in impact. Most retailers do stock games with this rating, but have a policy of not selling them to people under 17 without parental approval. Age restriction: 17+."

If you read this fanfic, I'm going to assume you got your parent's approval. The way I see it, M = Mature; Mature = relative mindset. So in short, just because you're 40 years old doesn't make you mature.

Also, FYI, Irene IS Karen. It says so in the novelization. Why everyone calls her Karen is beyond me. Furthermore, what you read is more or less a draft—like a pre-screening of a movie. If it's accepted, I'll leave it up. If not, I'll tear it down and rework it. With that said, it'll never meet my complete satisfaction. I am my own worst critic after all.

Rated for: Blood, Intense Violence, Nudity, Suggestive Themes, Sexual Themes, Strong Sexual Content, Strong Language [content subject to change]

"As The World Falls Down…Again"

Chapter 1:

Sarah Williams. Tall and thin with porcelain skin and emerald eyes. The figure every actress wants to have. One would think she would one day join the ranks quickly and easily. One would be wrong. The beautiful young woman, barely nineteen years old, had become a hallow shell of her former self.

Money was tight and so she couldn't get into that prestigious college she dreamed of going to. _"You need a GPA of 4.0,"_ they said. _"You only have 3.8,"_ they said. With those two sentences, they obliterated her hopes and her dreams. She had walked away empty handed. No hopes, no dreams, and certainly no scholarships. She tried to find jobs but since she lacked experience in everything except babysitting, they turned her down. Her father, Robert Williams, offered to work double-time to help pay for her books but she declined; he still worked double-time anyway. It was bad enough she was living at home still; at least, to her pride. With her dreams behind her and long forgotten, she focused more on her schooling and took up teaching. She still didn't have much to pay for her books but the college was cheaper and was close enough where she didn't have to stay on campus.

So here she sat at the breakfast table with her baby half-brother, Tobias, shrieking in his high chair rereading the newspaper to find another job listing.

"Come on Toby," Irene, her stepmother and Toby's mother said exasperatedly as she tried to push the spoon of oatmeal into his mouth, "Please eat."

Instead he knocked the spoon out of her hand causing it to clatter loudly on the linoleum floor. Sighing, Sarah got up, went to the drawer and pulled out another spoon.

"Here, let me try," she said as Irene cleaned up the mess. "I don't know what he's fussing about. He loves oatmeal."

Sarah tickled him making him squeal in laughter. Taking the opportunity, she pushed the spoon into his mouth, his mouth closing reflexively around it. He made a face as if to spit it out.

"Swallow," she warned raising an eyebrow and he immediately complied. She continued the process of feeding Toby as Irene just stared at them.

"Oh, dear! Look at the time! There's a Neighborhood Watch Council Meeting tonight. Sarah, do you mind watching Toby?" she asked, looking at her expectantly as she stood by the door-jam leading into the dining room and living room."Sure," she said looking up at her. "It's not like I got anything better to do…" she muttered returning her attention to the giggling baby.

She wasn't sure why Irene goes to those meetings. _She'll probably offer them tea and something to eat; offering them to come back again. _She snorted softly at the thought.

Once the boy was fed and tucked away with her old teddy bear Sir Lancelot to guard him, she retired to her old room to study.

"Fanfiction is like clay. One molds it into a bowl and you, in turn, transform it into a vase."

Moppet was terrified of him. For almost two years he had her locked up here in this tower. The room looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't remember why. The man had left her huddling in a corner, her knees to her chest and arms around them. She sat there for a few more heartbeats before deciding it was safe enough to move once more. Tentatively, she unfolded herself and walked towards the bathroom deciding she needed a hot bath. The set up was simple enough.

The rectangular room wasn't large but it wasn't small. Looking around, she saw a single standalone sink and a standard toilet on her immediate right, and a claw-footed tub on the far end of the room. It was all made out of white porcelain. A little wooden closet stood off to her left between the sink and tub, full of bathing supplies. It, too, was painted white, No painting. No tapestries. Nothing hung on the walls which were made of stone though it was hidden behind white paneling. Not a hint of color could be found in the room. White, fluffy rugs marked the items in the room on the otherwise clean white tile floor.

He had faltered today, calling her "Sarah". She had no idea who this "Sarah" person was. She shook her head vigorously. She was Moppet. Found by the Trash Ladies then taken to the Goblin King. As she sank deeper into the bubbly water, she struggled to remember something, _anything_ that happened before she was found. She came up with nothing.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there. Her room had no window or even a door save the one that led into the bathroom. She wasn't sure if it was day or even night. The water was getting cold. She gave a slight shiver and got out of the bath. Using a large fluffy white towel, she scrubbed her hair dry before wrapping it around herself. She padded back to her room and to her small vanity, ignoring the small tray of food sitting at the large desk. She sat down and took out her brush.

"One…two….three…" she counted strokes.

Each side had to be brushed one hundred times to keep it from frizzing. Once done, she got up and stood before the full-body mirror. She was pretty. Or rather, she thought so despite the goblins mocking and ridiculing her when she was found in the Junkyard. _Speaking_ _of which,_ she thought as she looked around for her goblin mask. She found it under the bed. Grabbing it, she stood before the mirror again. She was tall and thin. _Probably too thin to be healthy_, she thought as she dropped the towel and poked her belly lightly; though she was pleased with the slight tanning of her skin. Her hair was blonde, thick and curly and her normally bright blue eyes were a dull color. Sighing, she put her mask on. The mask helped hide her. The goblins normally ignored her when she wore it. It made her feel…safe. _But __**he**__ doesn't like it_, a soft voice hissed in her mind. It was a simple white half-mask with a long, thin and pointed nose. Taking the mask back off with a sigh, she set it on the night stand before getting dressed and climbing to bed to slip into a dreamless sleep.

"Fanfiction is like clay. One molds it into a bowl and you, in turn, transform it into a vase."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Jareth sat draped on his throne haphazardly with his right leg over the arm as he observed his subjects who were scurrying about excitedly. There had to be at least twenty or so of them. A group of them were riding their chickens whooping and hollering as they attempted a "chicken-fight", albeit poorly with the chickens refusing to cooperate. Chicken feathers flew everywhere.

But it wasn't his goblins he focused on. No. It was focused on a certain girl with blonde hair and blue eyes tucked away in the highest tower. She refused him…again. He was quickly losing his patience along with his power as the labyrinth slowly crumbled away. However, he refuses to show his weakness lest he'd have a coup d'état on his hands. Though, he was mildly surprised he didn't have one already with his failure to secure his victory. He almost hit her with her refusal. He gave a slight grunt of disgust as he reflected on the incident. He tried everything and it still wasn't enough. _Time is running short,_ he thought sardonically.

"Yee-Ow!" screeched a goblin breaking his reverie.

Three goblins had started a brawl. Sighing, he called his goblins to attention. All movement ceased; some in mid-action. Eerily, all heads swiveled collectively to look at their king.

"Will someone explain what the devil is going on?"

Quietly and cautiously, three tiny goblins made their way to the throne and peered up at him.

"Well?" he prompted.  
"It was his fault," said one.  
"Not mine. Hers," argued another.  
"Not mine. Yours," countered the female goblin.

All three began to squabble.

"Enough!" he bellowed. "I don't care whose fault it is. If you don't settle this without causing a ruckus, all three of you will be thrown into the Bog. Everyone get out!"

Everyone scrambled to collect their chickens and book it out of there before they, themselves, get thrown into the Bog.

"You three…" he paused, waiting for their names.  
"Lock," said one.  
"Shock," said the female.  
"Barrel," said the other.  
"…clean up this mess."  
"Yes your majesty," they said in unison, bowing low then scurried off to do their king's bidding.

Once alone, he plopped back down on his throne. He placed his chin in his palm with a sigh and returned to plotting.

* * *

"Fanfiction is like clay. One molds it into a bowl and you, in turn, transform it into a vase."

* * *

Moraine was beautiful with its snowy land and icy waters. Very few people venture to the Land of Moraine. Even fewer make the trip at all.

Mizume, Queen of Cups, sat in her bedroom admiring herself. Long dark blue hair and light blue skin; a personification of the land. She was tall and thin with the air of elegance. She was dressed in an elaborate blue gown with silver embroidery giving it the look of wearing water completed with a high collar. One might accuse her of being vain. One would be right.

Flanking her was her two daughters; Moulin at her left and Drumlin at her right. Each was painting her nails a celeste of their respective hands.

"Hurry up my dears. We don't want to keep them waiting."  
"Yes, Mother," they replied in unison.

Once done, she left her rooms and navigated the halls before descending down a set of spiraling staircases; making her way down to the dungeons. It was dark and dank and it positively reeked with death and pain. The dungeons seemed to be like a maze and one could get lost for years if one didn't know which way to go. There were a total of one hundred rooms; twenty-five dead ends, twenty-five false rooms which often lead one to their deaths, twenty-five torture chambers, and twenty-five rooms that led to the cells; all of which was spread out the entire land. The halls, themselves, often lead one back to the beginning. It is an illusion to prevent intruders from releasing the prisoners. It looked like a stereotypical dungeon; stone walls, stone ceiling, and grey flagstone stone. Torches lined the walls every twenty meters. It was a magical flame designed to never extinguish; the cool blue hue giving the dungeon the desired eerie feel. Screams of pain echoed the halls.

A chill ran through the dungeon. Mizume and her entourage navigated the halls with ease; the sound of their feet hitting the flagstone was hollow to their ears. Then they came to a halt.

Peering into a small cell, she greeted with a wicked grin, "Hello my dears."

* * *

Author's Note: Ok. I absolutely HATE this chapter. It was almost painful to write. And yes, I took that from "The Nightmare Before Christmas" which I don't own obviously. It seemed to fit and it was what I was immediately reminded of when coming up with names. Also note that the first two chapters are for introductory purposes almost like a prologue. Now the real fun—hopefully—begins.


End file.
